


Long Day, Longer Night

by kaileeyp



Series: Post War Wonders [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Comforting, Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 07:25:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7036054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaileeyp/pseuds/kaileeyp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soundwave's long day catches up to him in the form of an anxiety attack. Blaster does all he can to help him cope. (Soundwave/Blaster, takes place in my Post War Wonders verse)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Day, Longer Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! It's been a while and I felt like writing up a drabble. This takes place in my "Post War Wonders" verse, so I recommend reading the other stories before this one.   
> These characters are not mine, I'm just playing with them. Enjoy!
> 
> Warning: contains descriptive anxiety attack

It had been a long day for Soundwave… a very long day. Now that the war was over plans had to be made for the return to Cybertron. As it turns out, this was no easy task. Before they could even think about setting foot back on their home planet, so many things needed to be sorted and agreed upon. Thus, Optimus and Megatron agreed upon building a council. They chose their most trustworthy and esteemed mechs and invited them into the hard task of rebuilding an entire civilization.   
Of course, Soundwave had been one of Megatron’s first choices. He had the ultimate joy of sitting in a large meeting alongside countless other mechs he was really still just getting to know. On top of their helms, Optimus and Megatron dropped some of the heaviest questions needed to repair their world after a civil war. Stress had been high the entire day. There were no easy answers to be given when asked to sort out the legal, political, and social system of a species that had recently crumbed. So many mecha wanted nothing more than to go back to the old days, when life had been simple. They argued that life on Cybertron should be restored to the same specifications as before. Of course, all of these mechs were the ones that got to live in gleaming cities, far away from the underlying unrest and poverty that the so called “golden ages” were built upon. Each time, Soundwave had to grit though his teeth exactly why that wouldn’t work.   
Hour after hour, argument after argument, Soundwave sat there. He wanted nothing more than to crawl out of that horrible room and run back to Blaster. He could burry his helm into his chest and forget about all of this. However, that was something he couldn’t do. Finally, after the longest day he had likely experienced in his life… the council agreed upon the basis of the new Cybertron. It wasn’t perfect (as nothing ever would be), but it was a hell of a lot better than before. If the system actually worked, Cybertron would not only be restored, but mended. Of course, there was still more to be discussed, so Soundwave was held back even longer. Next they spoke of how exactly they would get back to Cybertron, and how they would even begin to restore it. They couldn’t build a new government without civilians to live in it. Refugees had to be picked out from among the stars. The news of a new Cybertron had to reach the end of the universe and back. And who was in charge of that?  
Why, Soundwave! Of course.   
His helm ached just thinking about all the work to be done. He had never sent out a universal message that broad before. He had to figure out a way to make the message translatable through all existing known languages in the universe. And if it couldn’t be translatable… then it had to be translated… by him…. Into all known languages ever…. Most of which he (of course!) didn’t know. His helm ached just thinking about the impossibilities.   
Finally, finally, he dragged himself out of that room; along side a handful of other equally exhausted mecha. His tanks ached with nerves as his helm spun in circles. Every known language, every known language, every known language. It pounded through his helm like a drum. ‘That’s impossible’ he thought to himself.   
His peds dragged down the halls of the Ark. Thank primus they were empty, he had to think, had anyone seen him walking stiffly with a glazed look in his optics they would think him mad. But of course the halls were empty… the council had been cooped into that room all day, it was so late that everyone else was likely asleep.   
Soundwave tried to steady his breathing, feeling pools of frustration well in his optics. He froze for a second and pressed his back against the wall. He breathed deeply, even though it didn’t feel like his air ducts could take in enough oxygen. Primus what was he doing? He could never accomplish that task. It was impossible! Completely impossible! Why did he agree to doing it? He could have said no. Why didn’t he say no? His breathing became ragged as he felt the panic rise in his throat. No. He knew this feeling. His spark raced until it felt like it was going to burst. His breathing became more and more unsteady. He choked on his own breath and pressed a servo over his chest plates. Primus, it felt like he was going to pass out. He knew what this was… he was panicking. No. He was having a full blown panic attack. He pressed back against the wall and tried to absorb the cold metal through his plating. His frame shook uncontrollably, primus, he couldn’t make it stop.   
Telepathy was an interesting thing to have. Often times it was easy enough to block out… but when a telepath is put under high stress (say, a panic attack), it could morph into something worse. Similar to a pot boiling over a hot stove, telepathy could become impossible to control in the right conditions. Thoughts and voices could become unbearable to block, and soon, the telepath would be drowned in voices. They would come from every direction. Thoughts, opinions, memories, all unfamiliar, straight to the telepath. It would be loud, it would be scary, and it would hurt. It certainly didn’t help when a telepath was in a busy area, such as a street, apartment building…. Or military base. The more minds to connect to, the more thoughts to pick up, the more voices to be bombarded with.   
Soundwave could hear it. His breath hitched and tears pooled in his optics. Like a bubbling stream, voices began to flow in. They mumbled and whispered to him, and slowly began to grow louder. His helm ached. His breathing felt more and more difficult. He thought for a moment that he was going to pass out then and there, but the universe wasn’t going to let him out that easy. He let out a broken sob.   
Home. He had to get home. He pushed himself off the wall and caught himself before dropping to the floor. Shakily he made his way down the hall. He pressed his servos to the walls to give himself support. Tears blurred his vision as he dragged along. He was sure that he looked more than pitiful at this moment.   
The door! His optics fell upon the most beautiful door he had ever seen in his life. He wobbled to it, reaching for it. He didn’t know why he felt such a need to get home. ‘Even inside I can’t escape this’ he thought bitterly. He used all of his energy to push that thought away. His servos touched the door, he opened it, and crumbled inside. It closed behind him.   
Dark. It was dark. The lights were off; everyone was already asleep. His helm pressed to the floor. He couldn’t breath, damn it! Voices pressed in from ever corner of his being. They smothered him. He feebly tried to push himself up, to walk, to crawl away. He couldn’t. He pressed his helm to the floor and moaned in agony as his helm ached. He tried to think, but they were just so loud. Another sob pressed from his chest, it cracked through his mouth painfully   
All of his energy was gone. All he could do was gasp for breath through the anxiety. All he could do was press his face to the floor and beg for it all to end. His vision faded in and out. He was fairly sure that at this point he was going to die. He didn’t mind. Anything was better than this.   
He didn’t hear the foot steps, and hardly twitched at the gentle touch to his shoulder.   
“Wave? Baby, what happened?” The familiar voice sounded so far away, almost as though he was hearing it through a pane of glass. Gentle servos rolled him up, and his optics shied from the sudden light. Blaster. That was Blaster.   
Soundwave looked at him through glossy optics, trying his hardest to focus on him. The voices… There were just too many voices. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t hear anything but voices. He couldn’t breath. He sobbed again.   
Blaster looked so concerned. His optics were wide with worry. He pressed his servos to Soundwave’s face, talking to him about… something. Soundwave couldn’t hear him. He offlined his optics. The servos were nice and cool; he could feel then drying his face. His chest expanded for a moment and he took in a deep breath. He shook in relief for a moment before reverting back to the shallow, panicked breathing. He distantly felt as he was shifted. Arms slid under his legs and around his back. He stayed completely limp and complied as Blaster lifted him off the ground. His helm dropped back like a ragdoll, Blaster immediately supported it.   
They were moving. Soundwave tried to open his optics, but they felt glued shut. Blaster’s soothing voice was there the whole time, talking to him through an ocean of voices. He couldn’t make out what was being said, or if it was even being said to him… but he liked to hear it anyways. He was suddenly placed down on a berth. It was soft, he let Blaster arrange his frame in a more comfortable position. He was too far gone to do it for himself. The servos left him. A whine built up from the back of his throat and he reached for Blaster. He didn’t want to be alone again. Fear shot though him in every way, please don’t leave.   
He mustered all of his strength into opening his optics. They cracked open. He turned his helm, hazily looking around. They were in their berth room. The berth shifted again and Blaster climbed next to him. The orange mech came into view as he leaned over him. His face plates were creased with worry for his lover, his mouth was still moving. He was likely talking to a medic through an intercom. Soundwave watched him meekly, pawing for more contact. A cool servo landed on his forehelm, it gently soothed over his helm in gentle motions. It felt nice. It was something concrete to focus on.   
Soundwave sucked in a deep breath. The invisible bands around his chest seemed to loosen their hold, if only by an inch. He felt tears well in his optics again. They slid down the sides of his face. He was so scared. He was beyond scared. Blaster leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Soundwave didn’t mind. The voices began to retreat. They dipped down to a murmur in his helm.   
More foot steps. Blaster looked up and greeted someone outside of his line of sight. Ratchet leaned over him, wearing an equally worried look on his face plates. They medic didn’t smack Blaster’s servo away from Soundwave as he might have in some situations. He looked at it for a moment, but let it stay there. He spoke to Soundwave. Something about checking vital signs in case of … something or another. Either way, Soundwave just watched him.   
The medic ran a few tests. He measured Soundwave’s spark patterns and the strength of his spark. He listened to the telepath’s breathing, before giving Blaster a look. Fragments of the conversation broke through Soundwave’s mind.   
“Spark ra/……..perfec/……healthy/……/igns of hyperventil/….likely having some/…….”  
Blaster shifted on the berth next to Soundwave, his face plates held relief for only a moment before creasing in worry again. “He’s nev/…… I don/……telling me ab/…… /ic attacks...”.   
Both the medic and Blaster looked down at Soundwave with worry. The telepath just tried to breath deeply and stared back at him. His helm was clearing, slowly but surely. The conversation continued and he strained to listen.   
“Most mechs with telep/….. /igh levels of anxiety….. I wouldn’t be surprised if ……. /is case”, Ratchet said.   
Blaster’s servo returned to Soundwave’s forehelm, gently brushing the plating. It felt nice. Soundwave let his optics flutter closed as he listened to Blaster.  
“well, I guess Doc. He’s just neve/….. about anxiety of whatev/….. I guess I’m just worr/……”   
“It is not unlikely….. just keep him as comfortab/……you can… /pdate me on how…. If it persists I will……. /ore tests…..”. The medic looked down at Soundwave, who looked at him through foggy optics. He squeezed the telepath’s servo and stood, leaving his vision. Blaster’s optics followed he medic as he left, then looked back down at Soundwave once they were alone.   
Sometime while concentrating on the conversation, Soundwave’s panic levels had dropped a fair bit. His breathing slowly returned to it’s regular rate. Relief flooded him… the panic attack was finishing. He watched Blaster, who looked down at him with love and worry in his optics. The servo kept stroking his forehelm, so Sounwave offlined his optics. He listened to Blaster talk to him as he rested. The voices drained from his helm like water, until he was left listening to only Blaster.   
“-ould have told me, baby. I can help ya through this, and any thing else like this, I swear. I just want ‘cha to be happy. I promise I’ll help ya with this”.   
His words were so sweet. Soundwave pressed his helm into the servo.   
“-ust so worried when I saw ya layin’ there crumpled up on the floor. I thought ya were dying or something awful like that. I’m so glad ya are ok”  
Soundwave twitched, feeling relief flood through him. It filled up every part of his frame with light. He was still so drained of energy; he could hardly crack open his optics. He watched Blaster, who smiled down at him when he caught his optics.   
“Hey, Baby”, Blaster breathed.   
Soundwave smiled meekly, then finally croaked out a soft, “hello”.   
Blaster’s face crumped with relief, and he leaned down over Soundwave to burry his helm against his lover’s frame. His words were muffled against Soundwave’s middle. “I was so worried about ya, Baby”, he repeated, “I love ya so much”.   
Soundwave twitched, the words spoken against his abdomen left a soft tickle. Blaster looked up at him with a laugh, his tears smudged all over his face.   
Mustering most of his energy, Soundwave reached a servo up and gently wiped at his love’s face. Blaster turned to face to servo and kissed it. He shifted up and crawled into the berth next to Soundwave. His arms wrapped tightly around Soundwave and pulled him close.   
The telepath buried himself into Blaster’s frame. Letting out a soft breath. The last of the panic ebbed away from him. He was glad, but positively drained. He felt Blaster press a soft kiss to his forehelm, and he cuddled into it.   
He still had so much to figure out, but for the moment he was so happy to just throw all his worries away and focus on Blaster’s soft breathing. He would figure the “languages” issue out later. Perhaps Blaster would be able to help him… If not… Megatron would have to understand that it was impossible.   
Soundwave relaxed himself further into the embrace, letting his systems begin to shut down. He would figure this out. No matter what, he would figure this out.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a kudos and comment! I love to hear your feedback. If you have any requests or are interested in an art trade, leave a comment and we can sort something out. For more info on art trades and requests take a peak in my profile description.


End file.
